Warheart
by BrutalAftershock
Summary: The world was lost. The Giants won and the Demigods have been driven underground. The Olympians are all but gone, with few remaining. Those once hailed as heroes are little more than broken husks, dead, or scattered to the wind. A decade since the Giants won has given rise to new Demigods, and a new chance at taking their world back. !Grimdark. SYOC. 4 slots remaining.
1. Chapter 1

Warheart:

Prologue: Ruin

I was there the day Olympus fell. The lie of the seven never came to fruition and for that Olympus and the mortal realm were put to the sword and conquered by the Giants. I remember the fires that raged. Olympus was a gleaming white marble jewel of the heavens stained by fire and blood. The gods were culled with only 5 Olympians surviving the massacre, with a slew of minor deities and spirits. Absolutely nothing went as planned.

In that moment I felt like all I'd done up to that point; the battles, the enemies slain, the sacrifice, was all for nothing. Hopelessness gave way to despair, which in turn evolved into rage. I'd sat upon bloodied steps with the last of the attacking monsters turned to dust at my feet. I watched Olympus burn, with nothing to show but dead friends littering the steps we swore to defend. I was the last, and I had wished I could just lie down and join them.

I was younger then. 18 as I recall. My name is Atticus Hayden, son of Ares, former field commander under Chronos' banner during the Titan War. Since then the world has changed drastically. Mortals, unable to see or sense the coming danger were all but wiped out by the onslaught of Monsters and Giants. We Demigods went underground. Half-Blood was found and razed to the ground, and we destroyed bunker-9 before they could get their hands on it. Ten years have passed since then, and it hasn't gotten easier.

Camp Jupiter, or Fort Jupiter as it's known as now, is highly contested territory. The Demigods there are…changed. They're deranged, brutal and suicidally fierce. Whatever they've endured there has warped them beyond reason. I'm just glad they keep to themselves. There was a purge in their ranks five years after we lost. That snake, Octavian, survived. He twisted the situation to his advantage and somehow drove the Romans into a frenzy. Many of them turned to infighting; legion against legion until the centurions and the higher command staff were forced to retreat, leaving Camp Jupiter in chaos.

Now, only very few experienced Demigods remained on either side of the Greeks and Romans. The rest were kids and teenagers who were too young to have done anything we had done. So now we trained and cared for the next generation. Well, the others did. I on the other hand, dealt in keeping order and making sure we were battle ready. I headed our justice and warfare divisions, since no age appropriate children of Nemesis were present. Only kids. Some said I was a tyrant and a warmonger, but I just did what I needed to do to keep everyone safe and vigilant.

Jason lead us. Though I think "lead" is too generous. Sure, we were safe relatively speaking, but we were stagnant. I could tell he was terrified of making the wrong move. He had been like that for ten years now. I saw him often, gaunt, tired, atrophied. He was a pale imitation of his former self. I think Piper was the only thing keeping him from throwing himself on his sword. He is weak now. He needed to step down.

The great hero himself, Percy Jackson. What a joke. A decade ago I looked up to him as something to aspire to. Now I just saw him for what he was. Not a hero. Not anymore. A wreck. A husk. A shell. He was talked up as a legend to the kids to give them something to idolise, but no one would know any different since he sat in his room festering like a living corpse. He's useless. A hollow figurehead. I'd have felt pity if the blame for our failure fell squarely on him, but the failure fell on us all. We all lost that day. It pissed me off that he thought just he was the deciding factor.

Annabeth was our head of strategy, education, and logistics. Finally someone I can say hasn't crumbled into uselessness. She's pretty short with people now, except the kids. No time for anyone that woman. She's as reliable and intelligent as I remember, if not more so now given the circumstances. Our divisions overlapped, so we often had contact. To say we were friends though, that would have been a lie. We were colleagues and comrades, that was all. Said she didn't like my approach to things, even though she understood the logic behind them.

Reyna managed the the warfare division alongside me which was fitting given her former Praetor status and combat experience. As much as I respected her skills and experience, I worried about her. She looked lost a lot of the time. I'd often have to address her at least twice before she would respond, snapping out of whatever malaise she was in. I've questioned her on it, but she denied there was a problem. I'm keeping an eye on her.

As for all of us, we live in the New York metro. Thanks to Hecate and her kids, we've got powerful magical defences. However, Hecate has gone missing. Year by year our magical wards are slowly failing. Now it's only a matter of time until my warriors and our steel are the only things keeping the monsters at bay.

We weren't sitting too bad at the time though, all things considered. We had food and water thanks to the Demeter and Hephaestus lot. We had electricity and heat, also thanks to Hephaestus' kids.

Now there are some Demigods that have caught my attention. Not all of them are from here though. All that left is for me to get them ready for the outside world. Who knows, perhaps they were the key to getting our world back and sending the Giants back to Tartarus.

* * *

Alright, I want to set some things up before I go forward. This is a SYOC story, my first, so this is new for me. For people who would like to submit a character, please PM me with the subject WARHEART OC.

Note: The nature of this story is a grimdark one. All characters have the chance of being killed in gruesome, ironic, or anticlimactic ways. Same with injuries that can leave characters handicapped or traumatised. Don't get too attached should your character be accepted.

The characters from the books are in various conditions. Some are dead, some are mentally disturbed, others are missing. So if your favourite character(s) is in one of these conditions, well that's the nature of this story. But fear not, some of them are just fine. For now.

Rules:  
(1: There are 10 slots available. I will accept no more than that. For anyone wanting to have their OC be a child of the Big Three, I will only accept 4.

(2: I am strict on what I consider overpowered or overdone. If I get the slightest inkling that a character is overpowered, I will discard them. As for being overdone, I want a character template with defined features and characteristics, not a biography. If I have to read a wall of text, at least make it interesting. If it is interesting enough, I will excuse presentation, but that's if I'm interested enough initially to finish reading it.

(3: I want convincing characters. Think of the world they inhabit, so I don't want a total edge lord or a paragon of righteousness, but person as just capable of good as they are evil.

Things to consider:

(1: Is the character useful? What skills do they have that make them valued to the other characters? The situation they're in calls for a variety of skills that no one person can have, so someone who can grow and maintain crops is just as, if not more valuable than someone who can swing a weapon.

(2: Who are they? Are they a young Demigod, or an old Hunter? Are they just a mortal who can see through the mist and helps the Demigods in some way? Make them interesting.

(3: Their past. Where did they come from? Have they always been with Half-Blood/Camp Jupiter, or were they working with Chronos? Were they out on their own or were they lucky and managed to live a normal life? Perhaps their history goes back to Ancient Greece or some other point in history if they're a Hunter.

(4: How were they found? Were they found wandering the ruins of New York? Did they find the other Demigods? Are they running from something? Did they defect from Fort Jupiter, or perhaps they were sent to aid the Demigods by Artemis if they're a Hunter. Are they an enemy turned ally? Again, Make it interesting.

Format:

Name:

Age:

Sex:

Race:

Creator consent for character romantic relationships Y/N:

Godly parent/Demigod parent(if they're a Legacy):

Mortal parent(optional):

Height:

Hair Colour:

Eye Colour:

Hair style(be brief, not too much detail):

Physique: (Muscular, Toned, Average, Slender, Chubby)

Personality: ( 1 paragraph maximum unless it's interesting)

Friends: (optional. Are they friends with any canonical characters?)

Abilities: (maximum of 3 main abilities)

Weapon/Weapons(main and backup):

Fatal flaw:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Clothing: (keep it simple and consider the setting)

That should be it. Remember PM ME USING THE SUBJECT "WARHEART OC". My criteria is strict, but I will make some allowances depending on what I get.


	2. God Spawn

Warheart:  
Chapter 1: God Spawn

Atticus

I stood at the far end of the improvised training cage watching my students practiced their hand to hand combat drills. They were fast and efficient; brutal and fierce, just as I had made them. Backs slammed against the jutting rails of the disused turn track while swords, spears, and daggers clattered to the ground. I was pleased.

Beforehand, they were gentle and unwilling to hurt each other. I had changed that. Now they were much tougher than we had been in the days of Camp Half-Blood. Much more willing to kill. These Demigods were the soldiers to cut a bloody swathe to the future of our kind.

A boy, though his giant size spoke otherwise, caught my attention. He had a fohawk, wore black denim jeans, biker boots and a band tee. Avenged something or other. His black leather jacket was in a heap off to the side. He was one of my younger siblings. He too was a son of Ares and it showed in his every movement in combat. He held a sword, though it seemed like a knife in his hands.

Opposite him was a much shorter girl. She had a couple of oddities about her. Her eyes were not her own, replaced with red lenses, while her left arm was a bronze prosthetic. She had one of the most vicious scowls I'd ever seen on her face. The spear in her hands was held in a white knuckle grip while a sword hung from her hip. Her hair was in a long braid that stretched to the end of her back. She wore a faded Half-Blood tee with the sleeves torn off. Like Rex, she had placed her hoodie off to the side. On her legs and feet were cargo pants and combat boots.

"Piece of shit, say that again!" The girl snarled. The boy grinned.

"You heard me. Now you gonna attack or is that arm of yours stiff at the shoulder?" He taunted. I was impressed at the speed at which the thrust came as he only had a fraction of a second to avoid being gored by her spear. I smiled. She understood that the spears's length gave her an edge, especially given the height difference between them. The boy, a previously stated younger brother of mine, was enormous for his age. We stood eye to eye at six feet six inches. The girl must have been around five foot seven.

"Damn Kori, almost took my eye out!" He yelled putting his guard up.

"I was aiming for more than that, Rex." She hissed. The jabbed fiercely and Rex batted the point away, only to have it quickly thrust at him again. Spears are typically used by shorter combatants to compensate for their lack of range. She knew this, and knew it well.

He stepped in past the spear tip as he avoided another jab, swinging his blade down where her prosthetic hand was. The forehand was always the most exposed in spear fighting, and an intelligent opponent would use that. She retracted the spear and stepped back, thrusting out to its full extension more.

Reyna had done a good job with Kori. She spoke of her often; the training sessions, the casual chats. I was glad that Reyna had decided to open up to someone again. She never got that distant look on her face talking about the fun she had with Kori. I was grateful to the girl for that. It had paid off as she was shaping up to be a fine warrior, and under my tutelage, soon a fine soldier.

My eyes wandered to another duelling pair. Though I think duelling is the wrong word. He held the dagger in his hand in a hammer grip, though the way he held it told me he was uncomfortable. His partner, a short; distinctly Japanese girl was going through several motions in meticulous slow movements in a demonstrative manner. Her black hair was in a messy pixie cut. She wore a green plaid flannel shirt, black skinny jeans and old leather work boots. Her denim jacket was also off to the side.

Her partner was a boy with long, slicked back, curly ginger hair. He was taller than Kaiteki, who stood at five foot three in my estimate; around five foot ten. He wore a plain grey shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. He followed the arena rule of no hoodies or coats when sparring, so his hoodie on the side as well. Curiously, it had ears on the hood. The reason why escaped me.

I moved over to the pair just enough tho hear their conversation. I wanted to hear if this girl was giving sound advice, as what she taught him was a reflection of we taught her, so I was silently hoping she would speak soundly.

"You can't keep your grip too firm or too loose. With any bladed weapon, your pinky finger will control the point of the blade, so that is where your grip will be firmest." She said. Indeed, she was right. I remember reading such information in the Water Scroll of Miyamoto Musashi's 'Book Of Five Rings'. It was a must read of the Demigods under mine and Reyna's training, along with 'The Art Of War'."

"Go ahead, try using what I've taught you." She said as she lowered into a stance with her daggers raised. She instructed him to strike at specific points, assuring him that he wouldn't even scratch her. He didn't. As he struck, her blades met his faster than a blink.

"Good. Much more controlled. But you're still too slow." The boy nodded and smiled despite the criticism. Xzavier Redwood wasn't a natural with a blade to say the least. But then again I wouldn't expect such from one of Apollo's kids. Though I've seen him use a sling, and he's deadly accurate with it. His pistol skills are nothing to scoff at either.

The girl helping him, Kaiteki Morita, had a better grasp of the blade, though it was by no means a natural talent. I taught her the basics of swordsmanship and she was a quick learner. What made her interesting was her unique lineage. She was the only daughter of Epione I'd ever encountered, and she inherited the ability to manipulate pain. She could not only soothe it, but intensify it as well.

I ran my trainees into the ground. I broke them, then reforged them. They were living weapons. But I left their humanity intact. Who was I to tamper with that? I was an extreme in their training that was brutal and relentless. I showed them no mercy, and taught them to show none in return. However, Reyna kept them who they were at their core, something I couldn't do. Without Reyna, those kids would have been very effective monsters. But thanks to her, they were just highly effective human beings. I was glad to see them care about each other at least a little.

"Hey, Atticus!" A voice called. I looked to the source of the voice and saw blonde haired boy walking with a confident gait towards me. He held a spear while a shield hung from his forearm. A dagger was tucked into a sheath on his shoulder. He had a strong French accent which only compounded the self assured tone with which he spoke.

"Can I help you, Casey?" I asked. He stood very close and smirked up at me. I had a whole head of height on him, but he wasn't daunted at all. Good, I'd have been disappointed if he was.

"If by 'help' you mean 'fight you, oh great son of Nike' then yes, yes you can." He said haughtily. I raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He was at it again. Day in and day out he challenged me to a fight. Only this time, he had an audience. I suddenly realised that the others had stopped. They must have been waiting.

"You're not ready." I replied. His amber eyes seemed to flash for a moment.

"Oh please, I'm never 'not ready'. I am victory itself. I'm sure I'm ready for whatever you have to offer, boy of Ares." He mocked. A tense second passed amongst the gathered Demigods. I was impassive, not rising to his challenge. That didn't mean I couldn't teach him something.

I held out my hand as it to offer it. He must have thought I'd accepted as he took my hand and shook. I suddenly lurched him forward and brought my forehead down on the top of his head just past his forehead with a sharp crack as bone clashed with bone.

He doubled over with the force of the hit. I tightened my grip on his hand, feeling his fingers release to reach for his dagger. I shifted my grip to lock my hand around his wrist. I kicked one of his shins, forcing his leg to slid back and lose balance and he fell to one knee. I then seized his throat and forced him to look at me.

"Extend an open hand, let them take it and pull them in. Once inside, greet them with a closed fist." I said. "Learn this in all its contexts and apply it. It's a tactic I encourage you" I looked up at the others "and all of you to actively utilise." I released him and helped him stand, though he snatched his arm away once he was back on his feet.

"You need a hand with that?" Kaiteki asked Casey. He glowered at her, turned and left the arena. He was a prideful one, naturally as any Demigod of Nike. He is extraordinarily talented, but he's still a kid. Experience and conditioning will outstrip raw talent every time. Though when he's older and been through what we have, he'll be a force to be reckoned with. He just needs to get that pride under control or it'll get him killed.

"Never changes does he?" Kaiteki asked with a sigh.

"Demigods can't fight their natures. We're more confined by who we are than mortals. I almost envy them." I said.

"Yeah, you got an undeniable kick out of that, didn't you?" She replied. There was more to that than I noticed at the time.

"Not at all. I just hope that he learns something. Same for the rest of you." I said. She looked at me for a moment then shook her head. She walked back over to Xzavier to run through more dagger motions.

I took a last glance over the training Demigods and took my leave. I had other, more pressing business to attend to. Today was the day the eldest or most experience Demigods of their respective godly parents gathered to discuss our future. Such things involved legislation, reassignment of resources, and idea proposals.

* * *

Kori

I watched Atticus leave with that look on his face. He always had it. It made his already scarred, granite hard face seem more weathered than it was. He was something of a point of contention amongst most Demigods. His methods were brutal and effective, but you'd best pray to someone that you don't end up being considered an acceptable loss. I don't necessarily agree with it personally, but anyone who thinks you can win with out sacrifice is an idealistic idiot.

Rex comes to mind. He hates Atticus because of it. He goes on epic rants about him "abusing his authority" and "he doesn't give a shit about us". Kai's no different. She thinks he gets some kind of twisted pleasure from it. Well, I don't care if they're right or not. We've gotten more done following Atticus' example than we have with Jason's. But then again, I don't worship the ground he walks on like certain others, so who am I to say.

Speaking of my fellows, I needed to beat Rex's some more for talking shit in out match. Sure, he wasn't mean about it like his siblings used to be at Half-Blood, but it was still obnoxious. Punk kid was gonna find my spear in his foot if he carried on.

As for Casey, he'd bounce back. Always did. He was one of Nike's kids, and that made him way more naturally talented than us. And he was a smug prick about it too. It made it so, so satisfying when his talent was knocked on its ass by experience. It I've seen that kid fight, and boy can he dish it out. Success is just natural for him unless you've really got an edge over him. Good thing his pride is so easy to abuse. He makes a single mistake and it's downhill from there.

I finished up my session in the arena, still verbally sparring with Rex. Ares kids were so easy to mess with it was embarrassing. The kid's not dumb, but he should really stick to physical weapons than verbal ones. Intelligence and wit are two different things, and he's far too direct for the latter.

Walking out, I passed April. She was one of Aphrodite's daughters and Rex's girlfriend.

"The dog's that way. You should give him a treat today, he's been a good boy and managed to last five minutes against me." I smirked.

"I heard that you frosty bitch!" Rex called after me causing me to laugh. Ah, yes. Being a daughter of Kihone allowed me all kinds of neat little tricks. Ice, the wind and the weather itself were at my fingertips. Well, to some extent anyway. I'dnever have as much power over them as my mother did, but I've got enough.

I was off to see Reyna, who was just about the only person I liked here. We spent a lot of time together after Half-Blood fell, and we developed a really strong bond from it. Though, she wasn't quite right. After the Giants won, it was like something broke inside her. She was still the stoic badass I remember, but she was distracted now; always staring off at nothing. Getting her attention took some effort when she did that.

I supposed Atticus was alright. He was different from the younger Ares Demigods, but I supposed that was normal. He didn't question my effectiveness because of my eyes or arm. He didn't make fun of me. Not once did he stare or gawk. The only question he asked me was if I could fight. Still though, something about him was hard to describe. It wasn't like a bad feeling or anything, but like a wall. He always had an impenetrable wall up.

The others might not have liked him, but he was patient with us. And more importantly to me, patient with Reyna. The two worked closely together as the training and warfare overseers, and Reyna's malaise sometimes made things difficult at worst, and slow going at best. But he never snapped at her. I'd say he liked her, but that would be gossiping.

I arrived at the nearest station where several of the Hephaestus Demigods waited. They manned the transports from station to station.

"Oh, hey Kori." Greeted one. He stood from the wooden crate he sat on and moved inside the transport. He stood in front of the controls. "Need to go somewhere?"

"Yeah. Sword station, please." I replied. We named stations after their general purpose. Sword station and Shield station were joint in the protection of our home, and our expansion into other territories.

"Sure thing. Come aboard." He said. I stepped aboard the vessel. It was a large metal cylinder, much like a typical train, but smaller. They were originally build by the Hephaestus Demigods to transport building materials when we first set up base in the Manhattan underground. It was bronze in colour, but made from recycled train parts. The Hephaestus lot were vital to our survival, and I really respected them for their technical talents.

At Sword station, I stepped off and thanked the driver, listening as it pulled away back to its first station. The stations had been expanded since we moved in. We used excavators and tunnelling machines built by, you guessed it, the Hephaestus Demigods to expand the tunnel network. I'm sure the Athena bunch still have nightmares about figuring out how to keep the tunnels stable while tunnelling. Worse yet, there was always the possibility of ending up in the Labyrinth.

The tunnel I took was lined with cables, fans, and lightbulbs. The tunnel was stained orange by the light from the bulbs. I could hear the distant clatter of weapons and shields as a distant echo further down the tunnel. That was the older sons and daughters of the war gods and goddesses, both Greek and Roman.

I exited the tunnel and stepped into an open area where they were brawling and sparring. The older ones were really a sight to behold. Their strikes were more powerful and precise than any we younger Demigods could manage even on a good day. They were fast too, way faster than us. They were inspiring. Years of fighting and struggling culminated into warriors worth 100 of us. There were none more naturally attuned and adaptive to combat than the war Demigods.

I caught a glimpse of some poor sucker sparring with Clarisse. I say a glimpse because that's all I could manage with how fast they were moving. They weren't untraceable, but they were just two very big, very violent blurs.

"Reyna!" I called. The warrior woman watching over the matches looked at me and smiled. Good, she was responsive. We walked to each other and shared a quick hug.

"How're you doing?" She asked.

"I'm good. But I wanna know how you're doing." I replied with my hand in her arm. I forgot just how muscular she was sometimes.

"Well, could be better. Atticus just got here and he's got a face like thunder. I know what's happening, and I don't know if it's good or not." Reyna said worriedly.

"Why, what's going on?" I asked concerned. I didn't see Reyna worry about much, so whatever was going on must have been big. Reyna sighed.

"A meeting has been called. It's discuss the future leadership of the Demigods. Atticus wants to take over from Jason." She said, the worry in her voice was clear as day.

"Take over? Why?" I asked. He didn't seem like the type to make a power grab. I'd only ever seen him do something if he felt it needed to be done, so he must have some reason.

"Tell me, have you seen Jason much in the last year?" Reyna asked suddenly.

"Sometimes, I guess." I answered, unsure of where this was going.

"What did you see?" She pressed.

"I know he didn't look too good. A bit gaunt and thin. Now that I think about it, he looked sick." I said.

"He looks a lot older, doesn't he?" A rhetorical question.

"Yeah." I said sounding subdued. Just what was going on?

"Atticus doesn't think he's fit to continue leading us. There's a multitude of reasons why he thinks this, but the main one is he thinks Jason has grown weak and cowardly as a leader." Reyna said sadly. She looked down at her feet.

"I didn't want to, but I think I agree." That was unexpected.

"So he's going to overthrow him?" I inquired.

"What? No, nothing that violent. I hope." She said quickly. "He wants to talk him down. If that doesn't work, he'll try calling a vote. If that doesn't work, then he'll issue a trial by combat." She said.

"I'm guessing he told you all of this." I said flatly. She nodded.

"Yes, so I need you to keep quiet about it for a while, alright?" She asked pleadingly. He must have told her in confidence to want me to keep quiet. Since it was Reyna, I would go along with it.

"Sure." I said quietly. This was concerning. A change in leadership was something we'd come to expect, and it wasn't something we really thought about. A fair amount of us disliked Atticus' methods, but despite that, no one could deny they were effect. This made things uncertain.

* * *

Atticus

I stood with the others around a long metal table that stood in the centre of the room. On it was a map of the metro tunnels including the additions we'd made over the years. The walls were decorated with trophies, weapons, and trinkets. Most of us had arrived already. Annabeth, Nico, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Will, Travis and Connor, Katie, and Rachel were there.  
Now we were waiting on Jason and Piper. Reyna was just outside and would be joining us shortly.

The silence was tense with only the buzzing of the tube light above us lightning the room making any noise. If we were younger, there'd have been a lot of awkward fidgeting amongst us.

The door opened and Reyna stepped in. She passed a glance over each of us and stood to my right between myself and Katie. Annabeth stood to my left, glaring a hole into the table. A few more minutes of waiting passed and the door opened again, this time with Jason entering, followed by Piper.

He and I locked eyes for a moment. Both of us knew why we were here. He took his position at the head of the table with Piper to his right. He looked rough as always. Dark rings under his eyes, grey hair at the edges of his hairline, and slightly gaunt cheeks. He was a wreck. He was in no physical condition to lead, much less fight. I knew the others saw this, but for whatever reason said nothing.

"So, this meeting was a little out of nowhere. What's the issue that needs all of us here?" Jason asked breaking the silence.

"I'm getting to the core of the matter. Step down, Jason." I ordered. Several of the others recoiled in shock, while others who I suspect saw this coming looked between Jason and I.

"Excuse me?" He questioned.

"Have you taken a look in a mirror lately? You look like a walking corpse." I said. "I think I can speak for us all when I say you've barely been present for the last year, and each sparse appearance has you looking worse and worse. You need to step down. If not for yourself, then for everyone else you've claimed responsibility for."

"So that's what this is about." He sighed. "Look, I had a feeling this would be an issue. I'd have to be a moron not to. But my health is secondary to keeping this place going and everyone in it alive."

"You look like you're about ready to drop dead, Jason. You can't carry on like this." I retorted. "I will not have you making mistakes because of some misguided Marty complex."

"Martyr complex? I do this because I have to. The responsibility is mine." Jason said. I knew he wouldn't budge easily.

"The burden you've shouldered for a decade is finally catching up to you. I know you're terrified of every decision you make to the point where the rest of us have had to govern in your place. Why can't you see that you're not fit to lead anymore?" I demanded. He frowned at me, his fist clenching on the table. Glances were exchanged between the other division heads.

"You know, as everyone else does, that I swore to the gods that I would lead the Demigods to a better future. That I would keep them safe." Jason said sternly.

"And we are stagnant. We haven't left the underground for any substantial period of time in three years. Our defences are crumbling, Hecate is nowhere to be found to reapply her barriers, and our warriors have nothing to fight. Our youngest won't have any experience and so won't be able to fight when we can't." I was beginning to lose my cool.

"A large problem is that we've become too centralised. Once the Giants find out where we are, we'll have no other fortified locations to go and consolidate our forces and resources." Reyna chimed in.

"We don't need to do that. The tunnel network is so large and expandable that we can always tunnel away from danger." When Jason said this, I slammed my fist into the table, collapsing the leg at my section and leaving a large dent in the surface. Several others jumped while others stared.

"Do you hear yourself? It's this new tactical ineptitude that's infected your mind that I'm talking about!" I shouted angrily.

"What he means is that the tunnel network is undeniably a very defensible position. If the Giants found us, they would be at an automatic disadvantage. The tunnels are one way, and the defences we have set up will be able to funnel them into easily manageable waves. They also don't know the tunnel system like we do, thus we can keep them away from key strategic locations like food production, the machine workshop and the tactical centre." Annabeth said. I cast her a glance.

"Is that you saying that? Or are you playing devils advocate?" I asked harshly. "You know that's not what he meant." Her fierce glare was momentary, but she looked away and back to the table.

The back and forth lasted for over two hours, with neither of us shifting from our positions and becoming more and more heated. This was a waste of time. Though I already knew it would be. I left the building silently seething. I heard Reyna calling after me, but I ignored her and returned to my quarters.

* * *

Reyna

I sat on my bed and sighed heavily as I let the tension in my body loose. I slumped down and rested on the pillow as I looked at the ceiling. It went just as he said it would. Atticus said he'd get nowhere talking about it, and he was right. Stubborn bastards.

I could tell that everyone in that room was divided on who to trust and what to do. Jason surprised me with his thought process. He'd have never had said some of the things he did in that meeting. Just what had happened to him? I doubted he'd make an appearance for some time now, like each appearance drained him more and more each time.

I wanted to believe that Jason still had what made him our leader for so long, but after today, I wasn't so sure anymore. We were safe, yes. But Atticus was right. Jason was withering away with the amount of pressure he was putting on himself to the point where even his judgement had become compromised.

However, at the forefront of my mind was dread. Dread from the threat of everything we had built being threatened. Fear of what could a happen if Jason makes a sudden rash decision. Would I lose everyone? I lost Jason, and now I was losing him in a truly horrible way. Percy refused me, though I bore him no ill will for that. I couldn't get anything through to Atticus at all, and even if I could've , he was so single minded and driven I doubted he'd have the time or desire to indulge me.

I placed my hands over my face and sighed once again. I couldn't succumb to this. Too many things counted on me keeping a clear head and my feelings to myself. A sudden banging on the door of my quarters made me look up at the door as did Aurum and Argentum. The mechanical hounds stood and stared at the door as I moved to it to open it.

Upon opening the door, one of the line guards was on the other side panting and sweating. He looked alarmed.

"Sorry to disturb you, but we've got a contingent of monsters coming up the Perseus line." He said hastily. Without hesitation I gathered my weapons and followed him from my door.

"How many and what kind?" I inquired as we quickly made our way to a station for transport.

"It's a scout force of maybe a couple dozen feral Satyrs. Couple of Manticores for muscle." He replied.

"That's it?" I asked. I was confused as to why such a meagre force warranted him to come and tell me about it. Attacks like this happened all the time, and we found out that these creatures were unaffiliated with the Giants.

"They've got Legionaries coordinating them." He said gravely. I was in shock. The Demigods of Fort Jupiter almost never left their city. How they'd found the tunnels was something we needed to find out and quickly. If the Speculatores had found this place then that meant the Legions already knew we were here. This was a serious problem.

"Alright. Get back to your post, I'll let Atticus and Annabeth know and bring reinforcements." I ordered. He nodded and began moving back to his designated tunnel.

"I'll back them up. Annabeth and Atticus are on their way. I warned them ahead of time." I looked to a shadowy part of the station and saw Nico emerge from the dark. I smiled with equal parts happiness and relief.

"Thanks, Nico. I owe you one." He smiled and nodded before following the other Demigod to Perseus tunnel. I had the sinking feeling this was just the beginning of something bigger, and much more dangerous.

This was what we didn't want. The fight had come to us. I swore I heard Atticus say "I told you so". I nearly ran straight into him, but he stopped me by lightly putting his hands against my shoulders. I wanted to stand there just a little longer, but the situation wouldn't permit it.

"Remind me to tell Nico how useful his shadow travel is." He said with a small grin. His axe hung on his hip, and segments of his full set of armour wear on his person. His axe was an ornate, master crafted piece of weaponry. It was a composite weapon made of careful balance of the two main divine metals, those being celestial bronze and imperial gold. Mortal steel was incorporated into the blade in increments , whilst the majority of it was made of divine metals.

His armour was also masterfully made. His shoulder plates were late and dome shaped, with a lip shielding his neck on both sides. Divine alloy tassets hung from a set of alloy segments at the bottom of his breastplate. The other pieces were gauntlets and grieves, and a helmet styled after a Murmillo Gladiator. He made everyone aware that going into battle without at least a helmet would be punished with having a helmet thrown at your head while tied to a post until it lands on your head. Strangely whimsical coming from him.

"Wish you were wrong, Atticus?" I asked dryly.

"All the time." He replied. As much as I hated that our base had been found, the core part of me that made me the daughter of a war goddess relished the chance to fight again. I was going to enjoy this. If only I knew what was to follow.

 **Thanks to BridgeToGraceFanatic, Ryzlow, Kive660, W.R,Winters, and POMForever for their OCs.**


	3. Dark Veins Of The Earth

Warheart

Chapter 2: Dark Veins Of The Earth: Part 1

The strategic centre of the Half-Blood stronghold was a hive of activity as strategists and logisticians relayed orders and strategic information across Shield station. Monitors lined the walls with maps and rolling lines of text displayed on them, while others awaited input. In the centre of the tactical centre a large table sat with power cables snaking out of it. Beneath its translucent surface a light beamed a three dimensional image of the besieged tunnels. Sat on ornate seats around the table, Annabeth, Reyna, Atticus, and Clarisse pondered over the holographic image. The machine hum of computers and the whirring of fans was near silent beneath tension in the room. Protocol demanded that they convene within Shield station before setting off onto the battlefield.

The chatter of Athenian Demigods as they typed and processed information, as well as shifting paperwork surrounded the four commanding Demigods. Camera feeds showed them in real time the defensive skirmishes being fought on the Perseus line and the Castellan line, with defenders on standby on the Beauregard and Bianca lines. Annabeth leaned back in her seat with narrowed eyes as she watched the camera feeds. Reports were coming in that Demigods were being deployed alongside mortal auxiliaries who supported them with rifle fire.

"We could smash straight into them. Our shock troops would tear them apart there and then." Clarisse said. She pointed her spear, Maimer, at the hologram. The electrified spear tip disrupted the image in lines of static as she pointed at the Castellan line.

"We're on the defensive Clarisse. Let them make the mistakes." Annabeth said. She knew Clarisse's blood always burned for battle, often leading her to less than stellar decision making. Her stormy grey eyes never left the hologram as she scanned its shapes. She knew from years of developing the tunnels into the funnel defences they were that the further the enemy advanced into the tunnel, the harder it would be for them to retreat. Defences were relatively lax at the tunnel entrances, often lulling enemies into a sense of ease. However, this would change as the Half-Bloods had built the tunnel defences into sections by building immensely thick and heavy blast doors every 100 metres. The further the enemy progressed, they would trap themselves further within the Half-Blood fortress metro.

Tunnel assaults were nothing new. She had overseen defensive battles before with little need to personally interfere. If things became unusually intense, either Atticus or Clarisse would take to the field and quickly bring the skirmish to an end. She tapped queries into a tablet mounted to the arm of her seat. Specialised protective wards and spells were burned into the very concrete making up the rooms walls, preventing any and all interference and interception of devices and information going in and out. No monster had so much as caught a whiff of that room.

"Number of Auxiliaries present on Perseus line? Someone tell me!" Annabeth barked, not liking the lack of information. "And where's the report on Bianca line?" She crossed one leg over the other and placed a fist against her cheek. She'd become a harsh taskmaster in the last few years. That much was clear to all who knew her before the fall of Olympus.

Though not in combat, she sat wearing her pristine bronze armour plated over with a thin layer of silver, giving it a moonlit shine in the holographic light. Her knife was sheathed at her hip, rarely used but keenly kept and maintained. Every monitor she looked at cast light in her eyes that appeared like lightning trapped within tempestuous grey clouds. A brooch embossed with an owl clipped a grey cloak to her shoulder.

Reyna cast her friend a look and while she admired Annabeth's dedicated command, she shook her head. She was pushing too hard again. She was committing the brain power required for a war to a small skirmish. A passing sibling of Annabeth stopped and delivered a tablet to her. She made no acknowledgment of him and took it, eyes scanning the text hungrily. She bit the corner of her lip and scowled.

"Dammit." She growled. Atticus tilted his head and looked at the tablet. The doors on Bianca line had been made inactive before the attack had started, and the Auxiliaries guarding it torn apart by the feral Satyrs carving and braying up the tunnel. He frowned and took it from Annabeth's tight grip and studied it.

"The early warning barriers should have triggered already. Nothing should have gotten through without at least two dozen Auxiliaries cutting them down." He said, his voice holding a dangerous edge. "Who was responsible for this line today?" The Demigods within the tactical centre all silently tensed as they carried on about their tasks. Someone would die to answer that question.

"A question for another time, but one that will be answered." Annabeth said. "For now, it needs defending. An inquiry can wait. Clarisse," she turned her stormy gaze upon the daughter of Ares, "Take a team to Bianca line kill whatever's advancing there. Some of our younger fighters should do."

"You sure? I can take some of my Red Hounds and meet them head on. The line will be clear in no time." She replied. Clarisse looked like the ideal warrior of Ares. She had a strong frame, with muscles seemingly out of place upon her decidedly curvaceous figure. Thick veins ran shallow like exposed cables on a powerful machine along her bare arms. Individual scars told stories of a hundred battles, each taking its place on the tapestry of her skin. Her dark hair was tied back in a short ponytail. A scar from a crude blade was carved into her face from her chin to her hairline, just missing her left eye.

She wore bronze armour the colour of burnt copper, with heavy chains hanging from the belt around her waist. The snarling face of a dog, jaws wide and teeth gnashing, was emblazoned upon her shield. Her helmet plumed with crimson horse hair was held in the crook of her elbow. Maimer, the reforged electrified spear synonymous with her, was clutched firmly in her right hand. The head of the spear always hummed with a dangerous electric buzz. Like Annabeth, a blood red cloak was pinned to her shoulder with a brooch embossed with another snarling dog.

"No." Annabeth said curtly. She blinked slowly, her hands busying themselves keying in commands on a multitude of tablets and keypads. "Take some of the younger ones. Training will only do so much, but live combat will teach them lessons they'll need if they want to keep living. Surely you'd agree?" She said with a frigidity that made any argument impossible.

"Fine. But they'll fight my way. If any of them can't handle shock assault fighting then they've got no place with me." Clarisse replied with a small roll of her eyes. Annabeth didn't reply. Atticus looked at her.

"Who you taking?" He asked. His voice was softer than many of his Ares siblings. By no means gentle, but soft and measured. Many of Ares' children had changed drastically over the years. As they matured and adjusted to the hostility of their new world, they had become increasingly aggressive and bloodthirsty. Voices once belonging to ordinary Demigods became thick snarls, with anger and hunger for battle roiling behind every word. Laughs became cackles, and war cries had become guttural roars. Atticus had changed the least. Whether that was good or bad depended on who was asked. But his voice remained mostly as it used to be. Even Clarisse's voice had given way to the unconscious clenching of her jaw and the growls within her speech. They'd become the singular fighting force of the Half-Bloods, with them being the physically strongest, fastest, and combat attuned Demigods. They were the first offence and the first defence. The shock troopers. The enduring footsloggers supported by the unique abilities of their fellows.

"I think I'll take Rex, Kaiteki, and Xavier. They'll do." She said. She moved from the table, slipping her helmet on and fixing her shield to her arm. Maimer's spearhead crackled in concordance with its master's excitement.

The rush of footsteps cut through the chatter within the tactical centre as a young girl entered the room. She donned the silver garb of one of Artemis' hunters, carrying a silver bow and a quiver of arrows over her shoulder. Two Celestial Bronze hunting knives were strapped to either hip. She was short, barely above five foot and appeared to be of Mexican descent. Her black hair was tied into a single Dutch braid. Her brown eyes betrayed her young appearance. They looked like those of someone seasoned and wise to the way of the world, though a glint of youthful hopefulness remained. Not like many of the other Demigods. Her face was flushed and her breath was short having ran all the way to Shield station.

"I'll go too. You could use a scout for the tunnel." The girl said. Annabeth looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Penelope? Where have you been?" She asked, half-annoyed-half-relieved. Where there was one hunter there was bound to be more. "I thought we'd lost you to the tunnels."

"I apologise, but I've been mapping out the deeper tunnels that were lost. I've made some discoveries." Penelope Zavala-Hierro reported through heavy gasps. She shifted one foot to the other uncomfortably under the combined flinty gazes Atticus, Annabeth, and Clarisse. Only Reyna greeted her with any degree of warmth.

"Please inform us later. I'm sure you've noticed we've got a situation on the Perseus, Castellan, and Bianca lines." Reyna turned to Clarisse. "Take her with you. She's no shock trooper but she'll make the throat of the enemy much easier to see and tear out." She said, putting things in a slightly more savage way that the sons and daughters of Ares understood.

"Yeah, sure. But try to stay out of the way when we charge. You don't wanna get caught up in the fray with me or my Hounds." She growled, whether consciously or not, her taut muscles flexed, coiling like steel cables under her skin. "Get moving." She left the tactical centre with Penelope following.

"Now," Annabeth continued, "It seems our Auxiliaries are fighting quite well. Kill zones, overlapping fields of fire. Castellan line is reasonably secure with them." She sighed through her nose. "Perseus line has the highest monster density. Manticores, Satyrs, Harpies, even a Cyclops." She muttered as she read the report on her data pad. "One Centurion and 100 legionnaires in phalanx formation advancing behind the monster vanguard." Annabeth bit her lip. "This won't be easy."

"This isn't just some incursion, Annabeth. They've come here in force, and they know they have an advantage. A two pronged attack, and a tunnel with faulty blast doors. Line guards were likely torn apart at the 400 meter mark, right to the 100th. This was calculated." Atticus said, cracking his knuckles to keep his hands busy. Had he not, he'd have already been reaching for his axe.

"Then if the Bianca line is completely exposed, we're ignoring something." Annabeth said, realisation slowly dawning upon her face. Bianca line was one of the most direct routes into the residential centre of the metro. Many other tunnels leading to the homes of the mortal population had been plugged up with train carriages and debris from collapses and nature's reclamation of them. Bianca line was normally extremely well defended, but for reasons unknown to them the line was devoid of guards, and the blast doors were inactive. The thought of foul play put a bad taste in Atticus' mouth.

"Diversionary forces. The Bianca tunnel is their target." Reyna said, her voice tight. Annabeth slammed a hand against the arm of her chair and swore.

"I want Auxiliaries reinforcing the Bianca station gate on the double. Heavy weapons permitted!" She commanded loudly. A chorus of affirmative responses came from her siblings surrounding her in hive-like activity.

"Atticus, I want you to get to Clarisse and back her up. I'm not too worried about her, but the young ones need protecting." She ordered, still not looking at him as she busied her fingers with typing at seemingly preternatural speed. "Whatever's there is gonna be too much for them."

"Alright," he placed his helmet on and stood to his full height, "I'll head there now. If you can contact any of the line guards, tell them to make it back to the station gate." Annabeth nodded and continued with her own tasks. Reyna watched Atticus go before looking at the holographic display.

"I'll go to the Perseus line and reinforce there. I know they'll need it." She said as she brandished her spear and refastened her Aegis Cloak.

"Be careful then, and keep any young Demigods you find safe. Please." Annabeth said, her stony visage cracking for just a moment. Reyna nodded with a small smile and left the tactical centre.

* * *

Ailea Rivers

Hours before the attack

I knew the tunnels like no other I was aware of, and had walked the darkest and most obscure reaches of the metro. There were places I'd been that very few others had seen, and gods permitting, they never would. On the way back from Fort Jupiter, entering the metro had been an experience that evoked memories of filthy, abandoned railways littered with trash and the refuse of the Half-Blood's fortification project. The smell of stagnant water flooding inert tracks in dimly lit tunnels and the musty smell of mould and concrete dust were scents I'd never be able to get out of my nose for the rest of my days. There was the nagging paranoia that came with entering the dark heart of New York. Every time I came across an access passage at the side of the tracks, I paused and waited, listening intently for movement or the myriad sounds that could come from any number of monsters that had wondered in and nested within the tunnels. All I could hear was the skittering of rats and the dripping of water.

I was grateful I decided to travel light as the humidity in the tunnel was really unusual, but since the overgrowth of vegetation overtook the city, and the world started taking on a more natural, pre-human state. Ancient plants that had been extinct for millions of years were now abundant, blanketing the city under an ocean of greenery. New York's surface was a sweltering jungle now, so my tank top and shorts, how inappropriate for traversing the tunnels of the metro they were with all of the sharp debris, helped with the heat.

A blue light inside of a metal casing cast a melancholic haze within a roughly five metre radius across the track as it sat above a doorway. Next to the door was a rusted power box with a faded electrical danger symbol painted on it, chipped away with rust and age. Brick dust settled on the surface of the power box, more so than I'd have thought was normal. I felt a stab of concern at the possibility of a cave in not too far in the future.

I kept my eyes locked on the doorway as I brought my breath to a shallow, slow rhythm, watching and listening as I passed it with purposefully light footsteps. The metal door of the access passage was pale grey and rusted, kept ajar on stiff hinges. Two skeletons in rat-gnawed, tattered clothing sat huddled in the corner of the doorway, the larger clinging to the smaller in a macabre embrace. A remnant of the day the monsters swept across the mortal world. The subway was filled with little reminders like that.

Despite knowing most of the tunnel network like the back of my hand, having mapped all of the routes I'd taken and shortcuts through access passages I'd found that were unobstructed and led to other tunnels, travelling alone still made me nervous at times. Certain tunnels I avoided because travelling down when alone was highly inadvisable. These tunnels had taken on lives of their own. Some were simply full of monsters, others were environmentally hazardous, while others were more sinister.

The tunnels in question were tests of willpower just to traverse them as unnatural things had taken root there. Ghosts stalked those dark halls, forever repeating their final actions. That wouldn't be so bad if they wouldn't break from their cycle just to get at you. I don't know why or how, but acting like you're one of them, sticking to a very strict path, and giving quiet reverence to Hades can, and I stress can, grant safe passage. Some tunnels whisper to you, luring you deeper inside, and defying the whispers and forging your own path through the tunnel is the only thing keeping you from whatever is on the other end. There are also countless entrances to the Labyrinth all over the place. This might be Half-Blood's new home, but what they don't realise is that they're living inside a living, breathing thing that wants them out.

I reached over to my shoulder and lightly gripped my bow, the familiar sturdy smoothness of the weapon brought me some relief. I swept the light beam of my torch in front of me and continued on past the entangled skeletons. I rooted myself in the moment, keeping my thoughts ticking over. I reminded myself of the weight of my backpack as I kept trudging through the trash water on the tunnel floor while glancing the finger tips of my free hand over the pommel of my Imperial Gold dagger. Such things kept me calm as I wandered the tunnels on my lonesome.

I followed the pipes on the walls and soon found myself at a platform with very sparse fluorescent lights dotted about the ceiling anywhere but over the platform itself. They were dim and near useless as some of them flickered, sometimes for seconds at a time.

A cracked and grimy sign read 'Chambers Street'. One of the dark platforms, still in friendly territory but it was one of the near abandoned stations. I heard chatter and the crackling of a fire. The shadow melted away as I carried on walking as I came upon a campfire with several mortal Auxiliaries, all armed with automatic rifles loaded with Celestial Bronze rounds. They were armoured in specially made combat gear like that of the old American military, coloured black with the vests being a sandy colour. The one sitting the furthest from me looking in my direction tapped another on the shoulder and nodded towards me as they noticed my torchlight. They quickly stood and raised their rifles. I put my hands up as a sign of non aggression.

"Don't shoot, I'm friendly." I called out as torches on their rifles blinded me. Only one light remained as the others, six in total, lowered their rifles. After a few moments of tense silence, the one with his rifle raised, the captain of their guard squad judging by the red beret on his head spoke.

"Demigod or mortal?" He asked. I told him I was a Demigod of Half-Blood and he lowered his weapon. He invited me to sit with them and offered me something to drink as he and his men sat back down, some of them returning to quiet conversation while those I hadn't seen previously stood further away smoking and talking. A kettle hung over the fire while several tin cups and a jar of instant coffee were sat by the side of it. He passed me a cup of the hot dark brew which I accepted gratefully. I hadn't had coffee in nearly two weeks, sustaining myself on water and whatever rations I'd gotten from the trade kiosks at Hermes station.

The set up of the platform made it look as if they'd been there for quite some time. A series of tents were pitched with lanterns by the tent entrances, some lit some not. Boxes were arranged in on rows, with three boxes separating the rows like some kind of communal eating area. Weapons were leaned up against the crumbling support pillars with clips of ammunition strewn about by their stocks. Used ration packs were strewn about the platform and the tracks. Cans on strings were hung from the tunnel entrances as some form of security system. The door of the structure at the end of the main platform had been forced open, why I didn't know, but I assumed it was some sort of defensive position as sandbags lined the walls beside the doorway.

"Don't see many Demigods. Hell, don't see many of anything here. What's got you coming through here?" The captain, a man who called himself Whiskey asked after we exchanged names.

"Scouting. Higher ups wanna know what's going on outside." I lied before sipping my coffee. The bitter taste made me wince despite myself, getting a chuckle from Whiskey.

"So, what's going on in bizarro world these days?" He asked. A loud snap sounded behind me and I turned. One of his men had turned on a floodlight and scanned the tunnel running parallel to the one I'd come from with the heavy machine gun mounted on a low wall of sandbags. Once he seemed satisfied, another loud snap turned the light off and he sat back down by the fire. I told him about the massive amount of overgrowth that had overtaken the city, the ever increasing monster population, and some of the new phenomena that had been occurring. His face cycled through expressions at my tale, as did those of the two men sat at his sides.

"You're telling me there's ghosts up there? Damn, and I thought it was just some of these damned tunnels." He said incredulously. "I mean, I've only heard about them, but never seen them."

"Trust me you're better off leaving them well alone. Some of these tunnels should never be travelled, alone or otherwise and that applies to both mortals and Demigods." I shivered. "Those tunnels belong to the dead now."

Whiskey sat quietly, as did his men. Shadows morphed and melted across his craggy features. His green eyes looked almost black in the firelight. "Well damn." He sighed. I took out my map that I'd drawn taking reference from subway maps that I'd found at different stations, each station and tunnel I'd drawn was marked with tiny letters each having details I'd made note of. I decided now was a good time to change the subject, spooking the line guards here wouldn't do them any good and that flood light would probably go on at every little noise in the tunnel.

Presenting him the map, I asked him if the Bianca line was near this station. Skimming over it, he traced a route for me with his finger which I followed intently. He explained a good route through that had little in the way of blockages or flooding, with no monsters and certainly no ghosts. Though he did warn me that the route would take me through a tunnel seemingly on the verge of collapse, but that was the lesser of the problems. It was a mass grave that had been left in the tunnel since the earliest days of Gaia's victory. I was told to prepare myself, and if this ghost phenomena was new, then I should do what I normally do when traversing haunted tunnels.

I spent an hour around the fire with Whiskey and his men, talking and drinking bitter coffee which I'd grown accustomed to. I kept information about myself, what I did, and where I went to a minimum. I said just enough to be friendly. They weren't bad men at all, but honest and welcoming. The man to Whiskey's left, Anton, played a song on his acoustic guitar that sat next to his rifle by his side. It was one of the unique products of Gaia's apocalypse, and a small testament to human endurance. Despite losing everything, we could still create and share those creations. The men sang along like they'd sung every day, smiling and laughing as they did. Even Boris, a thick set Eastern Europe man joined in while he was checking the tunnel with his heavy machine gun and floodlight, quietly muttering the tune.

I smiled along with them as I didn't know the words, but the general sense of camaraderie and coziness of the campfire in spite of the dark and death-filled surroundings of the Chambers Street station put me at ease. Even the memory of the two skeletons huddled in the doorway of the access passage melted away from my mind. I felt warm. It was a pleasant change from the constant paranoia and trepidation that were my only companions as I travelled between Fort Jupiter and the Half-Blood metro. Fort Jupiter had nothing like this, only military drills, madness, and power games. They were no longer frenzied as they had been but they were still like rabid dogs.

We talked for a time about nothing subjects, passing the time with idle chatter. Periodically the floodlight would snap on and snap back off again once Boris was happy nothing was creeping out of the darkness. Boris repeated this process but this time he kept the light on longer than I'd calculated was normal. He called Whiskey over and pointed into the light eating darkness keeping one finger on the trigger of his weapon. Metal crashing to the ground and the shattering of glass caught the attention of us all and we ran to the floodlight. Anton threw his half smoked cigarette to the ground and clutched his rifle as he came over.

"In there" Boris hissed pointing, "Where the train car is. Something's moving." He trained the iron sights of his heavy machine gun on the ruined train car.

"Okay boys, some action. Safety off and flashlights on." Whiskey hopped down onto the tracks followed by Anton and two others; a bull of a man called Ed, and a Mexican man called Javier. I followed with my bow already drawn and an arrow nocked. Anton moved to a vehicle made of scrap parts with heavy steel plates bolted to its frame. Two racks of high lumen bulbs lined the front behind a set of spiked bull bars. It was a facsimile of a train except car shaped with several seats, train wheels, and a high caliber machine gun pintle mounted at the back. He keyed the ignition and the bulbs illuminated the entire platform.

The darkness seemed to dance at the light's edge, undulating, teasing, and slithering. Something was in there, but I had no idea what. The fluorescent lights, dim and flickering as they were, hummed loudly and suddenly burst and showered the platform and tracks with glass, making us all cover our heads by reflex. Then silence. The high buzzing of the lights lasted only a moment, but once it was gone the platform seemingly had all sound sucked out of it. Even the crackling of the fire seemed muted. Along with the sound all warmth from the fire was jetted out from the station and devoured by the tunnel, almost chilling me to my bones as vapour accompanied my breath.

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead and my heart beat in my ears. No one looked at each other, all transfixed by the infinite inky black of the tunnel. I made my way over to Whiskey and tried to speak but he quickly shushed me, never taking his eyes off of the black gaping maw. It felt like something primeval in the very core of my brain was telling me to stay still and stay quiet, nothing like when I was passing through the haunted tunnels. This was something more, something far more sinister than the dead. The floodlight and the flashlights mounted on their rifles flickered too and in those moments I felt the very real need to run away. But I couldn't. My legs had lost all power and all I could do was stand still and wait. I swore I could hear my own blood rushing cold through my veins it was so quiet, so much so even the ambient noise of pipes pumping water and steam and the dripping of water were silent.

I stared into the darkness squinting my eyes so much they hurt. It was like I was trying to see something that wasn't there, but this utter blackness had indescribable mass that shifted, strengthening and wavering, then it would dissipate for a moment and then reform into a single wall of dark. I managed to tear my gaze from the inky void and looked at Whiskey who cast me a sidelong glance.

"This is normal, we have to be quiet." He whispered so quiet he almost simply mouthed the words. I didn't know how long had passed before the men relaxed and sound returned to the platform. They were still for another minute or so, then moved back to their previous positions and Anton began rolling another cigarette. I sat down on the wooden box opposite Whiskey, but looking at him he seemed to have aged considerably as he sighed in relief. Behind him the lights of their vehicle stayed on, filling the shadows left behind by the burst tube lights above.

"What just happened?" I questioned. He looked at me, back at the tunnel, then to me again. He ran his hands over his face and then the back of his neck. Anton shifted uncomfortably behind him and Javier busied him with a tin of food that he picked at. Boris hadn't turned the light off and seemed like he wouldn't for a while yet.

"It's been happening for months now. Might be that new phenomena, ghosts trying to get at us or something. We don't know what it is but it's taken three of my men already. One minute all's quiet and the next whatever that is rolls on in, kills one of us, breaks some lights and makes some noise then leaves again. The lights keep it at bay a little but, only sometimes." Whiskey explained tiredly. Javier looked up form his mess tin having finally had enough of picking at food he'd lost all appetite for.

"I hear whispers sometimes, you know? Like it's coaxing me. Tempting me to go in. I can't tell what they're saying but sometimes I swear I can hear my sister." He said staring blankly into the campfire. The flame too had dimmed somewhat, and the loud crackles were now quiet snaps. Whiskey ordered Anton to stoke the fire and the smoking soldier threw some chopped wood onto it, then poked it with a bent stick of rebar. The flame rose and the crackles returned, spreading some much needed warmth back onto the platform.

"We've all heard it." Boris spoke, his stentorian voice a low baritone as if fearing whatever was in the tunnel mere moments ago would hear him and return. I couldn't blame him. I'd even caught my thoughts being quieter inside my skull. "We've all heard the call of the lost. They offer us our families. Lost lovers. I watched Darren run in there like a man possessed and never return."

"I've heard it's worse at 163rd street and Hoyt-Schermohorn." Anton said as he tuned his guitar, but he didn't look like he was really focused on it as he stared hollowly at the floor. He gave a sardonic chuckle. "Even after the apocalypse, those stations are still the fucking worst." Javier began poking at his food again.

"Those stations…" he trailed off shaking his head, "They're cursed. People keep getting stationed there and every time I hear only one person, two at most, make it back. They're not fit for duty afterwards."

"What happens there?" I asked. There was a stiff silence amongst them and each of them looked at the other, seemingly hoping someone else would explain. Whiskey heaved a heavy sigh and took the beret from his head, showing is shaven scalp.

"Same thing as here, just a lot worse. People go missing all the time just going near the tunnels near those stations." He gestured towards Ed who sat cleaning his rifle as he sat on a box next to Boris. "You've got a story about 163rd haven't you?" He asked rhetorically. Ed was quiet and just stared at his rifle as he cleaned the barrel with a rag. His bearded jaw clenched but finally he nodded.

"Yeah," he rumbled, "Yeah I do." He spoke curtly and frowned deeply. His eyes were pits of shadow in the firelight, but I, like everyone else waited for him to speak, knowing he didn't want to. Anton plucked a couple of strings and nodded in satisfaction with the sounds they made, and the crackling fire provided a comforting backdrop to the otherwise deathly silent platform. Ed looked around still scowling and muttered under his breath.

He licked his lips and sighed while setting his rifle and cleaning rag down on the floor in front of the box he sat on. Boris cast him a glance and quickly returned his attention back to the tunnel. "Like the girl was saying, these tunnels ain't normal anymore. I was watching 163rd with another patrol about a year ago, and we dealt with the regular shit. You know, monsters, legionnaires and all that. On that day nothing was happening and I remember our Watch Captain saying he'd been hearing noises on the tracks. Said they were exactly like commuters, hearing voices and the train announcements clear as day. Safe to say the rest of us weren't hearing anything and thought he was just trying to keep himself entertained by spooking us. It worked, but the guy was so damned adamant we were lying. Couple of days passed and it just got worse. One of my old squaddies told us when we were sure he wasn't listening that the guy was standing at the tunnel entrance just staring into it."

We all kept our attention on him as he stopped talking and made his way over to the kettle with heavy footsteps. Up close the man was huge, head and shoulders above me and I'd say three times as wide. He poured the boiling water into a tin cup and stirred in the instant coffee. Both the spoon and the cup looked comically small in his meaty hands. He sat down, sipped the boiling drink and sighed again with the wooden box creaking slightly under his weight.

"So, as I was saying," he continued, "the Captain was staring and mumbling to himself about something and we were pretty fucking spooked by this point. I called out to him and I swear I'd never seen someone turn so quickly with such a look of hatred in my life. He looked back at the tunnel, started laughing and ran back to us. I had to resist shooting him he looked so pants-shitting insane. Started going on about how people were coming back to the station and that the train was coming to pick us up." He went quiet again and sipped his drink. I felt apprehensive and checked the platform around us, each shadow looking like something it wasn't. My eyes flickered to the tunnel Boris kept vigilant watch over, expecting that dark, squirming mass to come flooding into the station and swallow us all. I swallowed thickly as my throat had gone dry my attention was so focused on Ed and his story.

"Then we saw them," he shrugged with a disbelieving look on his rugged face, "people, lights, trains. We were so caught up in it, it was like all this right now was a bad dream we'd all shared. Then like that," he snapped his fingers, "it was gone, and there's fucking ghosts everywhere. The platform, the tracks, coming out of the tunnel." He took a shaky breath. "The whispers and the screams deafening. The Captain dropped his gun and walked on into the tunnel and we never saw him again. That left us with the ghosts."

Anton piped up after a short but heavy silence. "Didn't one of your squaddies off themselves because of it?" I frowned when he said that as it just sounded so disrespectful. Myself and Whiskey were in accordance as the Captain reprimanded him after throwing an empty bean can at his head. Ed didn't look like he'd heard him.

"Yeah. Blew his brains out bawling and babbling saying they were coming to take him away. Felt the same way to tell the truth." He confirmed scratching the back of his head. "What happened after that was a blur. I remember passing out, but when I woke up the ghosts were gone, three of my squaddies and the Captain were missing, and one was dead. Sometimes I think he had the right idea. I completely forgot about reporting to Shield station and went straight to Hestia Alpha station instead where I could go see my family and try to forget about it. Still haven't felt right since."

I sat in silence while the others kept talking as Ed's story had me lost in thought. Ghosts. I'd seen spirits, elementals, and other entities that could be considered ghosts but those were something else. They were nothing like any entity I'd heard of, and I've been close enough to feel the difference. My mystical talents inherited by my mother Trivia allowed me to get a good feel for magic and what kind I was dealing with. These things weren't just souls from the underworld or anything of the sort. They were like memories, but like memories they can be stirred. If the living get too close it's like being a torch in a swarm of moths. I'd watched them on my travels as they repeated their last moments, desperately clawing for refuge in the New York metro as monsters ripped them apart. Always the same final actions. That was until I got too close. I'd have to consult my mother's teachings and see if the Lore Keepers will know anything when I get back to the Olympus line. Sword, Shield, Anvil, and Athens stations were there, so I'd have to go through the Bianca line, then through the Hestia residential stations to get to the Olympus line.

I gathered my things and stood, telling the line guards that I needed to carry on with my travels. Whiskey asked me if I needed an escort, but I decline stating that I knew my way around the ghosts and what lines and stations to avoid. I bid them farewell, not before applying a magical sigil on both tunnel entrances with what little magical supplies I had left. Potion brewing was a speciality of mine, so I managed to scrape together what little reagents I had left and what I could find from the nearby wild tunnel flora and mixed up a quick concoction that would deter lower spiritual entities and ward off monsters by its smell alone. I then left the dark, decrepit, and honestly terrifying Chambers Street station behind, left in the capable but unenviable hands of Whiskey and his brave men.

The further I strayed from the friendly voices and the warmth of the fire further into the quiet, cold, and dark tunnel towards the Bianca line, the more and more I felt terror creeping up on me. My flashlight only did so much to light the way through the lightless void, and what Ed had told us about the ghosts, and what appeared in the tunnel that had everyone up and at attention disturbed me greatly. I couldn't give up on my trek, and I'd done it before numerous times, but this occasion felt different. It's now in the tunnel, engulfed by darkness with only a cone of light as my guide, I wished that I'd felt alone.

* * *

 **Here it is, finally an update. Sorry to whoever has been waiting, especially to the people who took the time to send their characters to me. Now things have slowed down in my particularly turbulent year, and I've finally got my head back into this fic, I should be updating fairly soon. Seriously though you've just gotta look at my other stories and their last update times, don't hold your breath. I wish I was joking. Until next time, BrutalAftershock out. Thanks to BridgeToGraceFanatic, Ryzlow, Kive660, W. , POMForever, DDaughterofAthena, and DyslexicAndAwesome for your OCs. (I know at least a couple of usernames have changed since I last posted. I apologise for using your old ones.)  
**


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